


Relics

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Gen, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-13
Updated: 2009-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds something left in Camelot’s attic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relics

Arthur rooted around through the attic, looking for his old clothes. Merlin had been his servant for months now, and he persisted in looking scruffy. It made a bad impression, to have one’s servant looking less than presentable, and he’d decided to do something about it.

He found a likely-looking crate, and pried it open. It held clothes, alright, but they weren’t his. He lifted out the gold silk and raime gown, looked at it for a moment as his brain told him what it must be, then stuffed it back in the crate with a feeling very like panic and ran from the attic without even replacing the lid.

***

He went back several hours later, and took the crate back to his rooms, along with two others that had been gathering dust in the attic.

He left them in the corner, not looking at them, and not even thinking about them. He had no fear they’d be missed; they’d been in the attic for nearly twenty years, after all, and the one subject one Did Not Mention in Camelot, even moreso than magic, was the late Queen.

Arthur had often wondered about his mother; what she looked like, the things she’d enjoyed, whether she would have been proud of him…but he didn’t dare ask his father about her, and all the servants, with the exception of Gaius, were too afraid to discuss her.

He could ask Gaius, of course, but the thought of bringing up his mother with anyone, even someone as discreet as Gaius, was…unthinkable.

He left the crates in his room for two weeks, and no one remarked on them. But finally the temptation became too great, and he opened the first crate.

He took out the gown and looked at it, trying to imagine the woman who’d worn it. Pale gold, shot through with silver thread, the bodice embroidered with seed-pearls. He buried his face in it and inhaled. It smelled of nothing but dust. When he finally took his face away, there was a damp patch on the fabric. Blinking rapidly (against the dust, he told himself) he set it carefully on his bed and pulled out the next.

The first crate held gowns: gold, silver, pale blue. The second crate was smaller; it held jewellery. He ran his hands reverently over the light silver crown before setting it aside. There were several silver bangles, a cameo pin with the Pendragon crest, and an emerald brooch carved in the shape of some sort of fanciful beast.

His vision blurred. He must be coming down with something; he’d have to see Gaius later.

“What are you doing?” a voice demanded.

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning around, he glared ferociously at Merlin, the remains of his mother’s life spread around him. “What have I told you about knocking?”

“What’s all this?” Merlin asked, gesturing to the scattered detritus, not at all deterred.

“It’s nothing! Now get out!”

Merlin looked at him more closely. “You’ve been crying.”

“I have not!” Arthur retorted automatically, although he knew Merlin was right.

“What is all this?” Merlin asked again, moving to pick up the crown.

“Don’t touch that!” Arthur growled, and Merlin held his hands up in acknowledgement.

When Merlin kept looking at him, Arthur finally confessed, “I found it in the attic.”

Merlin nodded, then said quietly. “It’s your mother’s, isn’t it?”

Arthur nodded, his eyes on the floor, fighting back tears.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!”

“You miss her,” Merlin observed.

_Yes, I miss her. You have no idea how lucky you are to have known your mother._ “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin! How can I miss someone I never met?”

“What does that matter? Don’t you think I miss my father?”

Arthur sighed. “No one talks about her,” he said, his voice quiet and choked. “It’s like they’re afraid to admit she existed. And Father…” he trailed off.

Merlin put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Arthur covered it with his own.

“Do you want me to leave?” Merlin asked again, quietly.

Arthur shook his head.

He got up to open the third crate.

It held a harp-case, dusty but intact. Arthur drew out the instrument, the wood red-gold in the firelight and ran his fingers across the strings, expecting them to go to dust after so long, or at least to produce a discord.

The notes rang out in a silvery waterfall, as sweet and clear as if the harp had been played yesterday. Arthur’s tears fell on the strings, and gentle hands took the harp from him and replaced it in its case, then held him while he cried.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Relics (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3811288) by [VeegiDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeegiDawn/pseuds/VeegiDawn)




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